The Nonconformist: Christiaan

He's styled hair with steel wool. He's cut hair with a disposable razor. Christiaan has only one rule: Don't be boring.

If you're ever lucky enough to have your hair cut by Christiaan, there are a few things you can expect: He'll sketch the cut first, probably on a cocktail napkin, because in all likelihood you just met in a bar. Then you'll hear the buzz of clippers—and yes, you're still in the bar. And you'll realize you're not getting the cut on the cocktail napkin. No matter. His creation will inspire countless imitators. While he doesn't work at a salon, Christiaan really will cut your hair on a chance encounter...if he happens to be in the mood. "I'll cut anyone's hair for free, anywhere," he says. "It's what I love doing, and I suppose it's narcissistic—if you don't pay me, I'm freer to do what I want. But it's also my passion."

Christiaan does, of course, also work on the clock. He's responsible for the latest asymmetrical and half-buzzed punk short cuts. Most recently, he's turned chin-length mumsy hair into badass supermodel hair, with choppy textures (Arizona Muse) and deep side parts (Daria Werbowy). He was doing asymmetrical bobs in the 1970s and created the undercut in '84. (If you didn't grow up in the '80s, "undercut" means the underside of the back of the head is shaved short.) "The back of chignons sagged, so I cut the damn thing off," says Christiaan. His victim (or muse, depending on how you look at it) was model Bonnie Berman, and when she walked down Comme des Garçon's runway with the bottom half of her head shaved, "Boom! Everyone wanted it," Christiaan recalls. "Bonnie called it 'the buzz.' " Whereas other hairstylists' edgy looks are often inspired by music legends, Christiaan actually worked with those legends. He created Debbie Harry's tousled-rocker hair in the '70s (a mutual friend, designer Stephen Sprouse, introduced them), and in 1980, he took a razor to his neighbor Grace Jones's hair and produced her flattop. Major fashion houses like Céline, Saint Laurent Paris, Chloé, Marc Jacobs, and Miu Miu are enlisting him to create hairstyles in their ads. So are the photographers and editors who have relied on him for his provocative looks for more than 45 years.

The beginning of Christiaan's story is (no shocker) quirky—and hinges on a case of mistaken identity. Having been trained to cut hair by his father, a barber, Christiaan moonlighted as a hairdresser while serving in the Netherlands Marine Corps. A client with the same name as a big-time theater star, Lotte Lenya, wrote to an editor at Glamour singing his praises. The editor, mistaking the woman for the celebrity, arranged for a limo to usher Christiaan to all of New York City's most important salons when he was just 21. The charming Christiaan walked away with a job at Bergdorf Goodman's Coiffures Americana salon (which catered to grandes dames) and eventually helped establish its younger-skewing offshoot, BG Cutaway. But his spontaneity, creativity, and unpredictability didn't go over so well, and in 1969 he was fired. ("They made a rule that we were only to wear blue suits, and I had just stocked up on Pierre Cardin brown suits," he recalls.) On the upside, "I met editors like Polly Mellen, which started my freelance career." That meant styling hair for Harper's Bazaar and working with photographers Richard Avedon, Hiro, Irving Penn, and Arthur Elgort. The latter became a close friend and collaborator. "Avedon and Penn were kind and friendly, but heavy-duty serious—I felt like I was going to church when I worked with them," says Christiaan. "And then I met Arthur at a Mademoiselle shoot in 1969, and it was like going from church to dancing in a nightclub. He didn't agonize. He just picked up a camera and started shooting."

Ask any photographer or fashion editor today, and they'll tell you that Christiaan's method isn't all that different from what it was in 1969. "I never know what the finished look will be when I start working," he says. "It evolves as I go." Whenever a model moves, he adjusts the hair (his hand is often in more shots than not). "It's like painting—you work out of passion and attack the canvas until it's perfect," says Christiaan. "Working without a set plan can be risky, but I set up the pieces. And cross my fingers that it works."

His (Rather Oddball) Toolkit

At first glance, Christiaan's arsenal looks pretty standard: Mason Pearson brush, dozens of bobby pins, a variety of curling irons. But look a little closer and you'll notice a conspicuous lack of styling products, as well as a few quirky items.

• HAIR MASKS: Christiaan uses rich conditioner, such as Kiehl's Olive Fruit Oil Deeply Repairative Hair Pak, the way most hairstylists do styling products. "I use very little hair spray or gel, because when the hair gets stuck in one place, it stops the creative process," he says. So he piles on the conditioner to sculpt hair with flexibility. "I can take the hair in an entirely different direction," he says.

• RUBBER HAIR ROLLERS: Christiaan twists sections of hair around these bendy rods to create messy waves or tight corkscrews. "Curling irons are fine if I'm in a rush, but I can wrap the hair around these in a thousand different ways," he says.

• WOOL KNIT CAP: Weird but true: Christiaan often brings a hat to a shoot. He pops it on over rollers, using the heat from the model's head to set her hair.

• STEEL WOOL: "I have a couple of silly things, like old rags and pot scrubbers, in case I want to add some silver to the hair," says Christiaan.